


Undertow

by MrsHamill



Series: Raising Madison [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Kid Fic, M/M, Post Episode: s02e06 Trinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 02:58:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How it happened. There is off-screen death of major canon characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those stories that's out of order, and deals with what happened immediately after Jeannie and Kaleb died. If you can't stand sad stories, you might want to stay away, but it does have a bearing on the series. Thank you, Susan, for the beta; all mistakes left are mine, of course.

Whoever was knocking was going to get a new one ripped, Rodney thought as he headed for his front door. He had finally gotten started on the paper, too, which clearly called for a double-holer. He glanced at the clock as he passed it and realized it was later than he'd thought. He doubted it was a Jehovah's Witness, not at almost ten-thirty, but you never knew, he could get lucky.

He threw open the door, prepared to growl, but instead gaped at the policewoman who stood there. "Hello, sorry to bother you, are you Dr. M. Rodney McKay?"

Rodney blinked. "Uh, yes... what...?"

"Are you related to Kaleb and Jean Miller?"

Beginning to get a really, really bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, Rodney said, "My sister, her husband..."

"May I come in?" She opened her wallet and showed him her badge. "I'm... afraid I have some bad news."

And that's how Rodney found out that his sister and her husband had died.

* * *

The next clear memory he had was of being in the morgue, somehow agreeing to make a visual identification of Jeannie. She was blue and cold and her beautiful hair was blood-encrusted. He didn't know why he didn't throw up, or scream, or do anything other than simply nod. "Jeannie?" He whispered, because everything felt fake to him, felt like a gigantic hoax, Jeannie was his _baby sister_ and she wasn't supposed to die, not before him, not before Madison--

"Madison. Oh, God, was Maddie in the car?" He turned to the policewoman who'd been helping him through his ordeal.

"There was no one else in the car, Dr. McKay," she said, soothingly. "Their daughter was at home with a babysitter. That's how we found your name and address. The babysitter is still there, but it's getting late and we need to get you to the house."

Rodney nodded, his head jerking woodenly. He wanted to take one last look at his beautiful sister but he also wanted to avoid it simultaneously, and more than anything else, he wanted John. But John was in another galaxy.

There was paperwork, of course, it wouldn't be normal, wouldn't be _human_ if there wasn't paperwork to be filled out. Finally, he was released, driven back home, asked if he was okay to drive, and left. He got into his car and drove to Jeannie's, carrying a hastily-packed bag of toiletries and  clothes. When he got to Jeannie's house, he realized he had no memory of the trip.

The babysitter was a neighborhood girl. She was still there and so was her mother, which was a good thing, though he didn't quite know why. The girl was blotchy-faced and borderline hysterical. 

"I'm Mrs. Hudgins," the mother said. "Tamesha has been babysitting for little Maddie for a long time. They were just out..." she stopped and swallowed. "It was their anniversary. They were just out for that." When Rodney didn't reply, she gave him a sympathetic look and patted his arm. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. She pressed a piece of paper into his hands. "If you need anything, please call. We... the whole neighborhood, we all know-- knew them, liked them. Whatever you need."

Somehow, Rodney conjured up words to thank them, words to reassure them that he'd be fine. He wouldn't, but there was no point in speaking the truth.

He locked up the house methodically, re-familiarizing himself with it. He'd stayed with Jeannie and Kaleb quite a bit; just after he arrived from Pegasus, before he'd found a place to live, and during the virus outbreak, when he'd barricaded them in the house and wouldn't let anyone out or in. Jeannie had called him a hypochondriac and laughed, but they didn't get sick. And during his imposed encampment he was able to more carefully test Madison and the incredible brain that was developing in her little girl body.

Madison was asleep now, in her room, which was all pink frills and white froth. There was a glider-rocker in the room, a leftover from baby days. Once Rodney was sure the house was secure, he had a quick wash and sat in the chair, in the darkness of Madison's room, and wondered how he was going to tell his niece that her parents were dead.

* * *

He'd forgotten how early Madison woke. Just after sunrise he woke with a start, realizing she was climbing onto his lap. His head was aching, his mouth felt disgusting and he was surprised he'd even managed to sleep.

"Unca Mer?" Maddie asked. "Where's mom? Where's dad? I looked for them but they're not here. But you are!"

She threw her little arms around his neck and gave him what he usually called the strangled-octopus squeeze. He squeezed back for a long time before settling her on his lap, his arms around her. "Madison?" What should he say? What should he say? Could he tell her that her mom and dad were dead? She was just five, for God's sake, could she handle it? Could he? Trying desperately to keep his voice from shaking, Rodney settled on the truth. "Madison, there was... an accident, last night. A car accident."

Her pretty blue eyes stared at him, eyes that were so much like Jeannie's. "A accident?"

"Yes." Damn, he was seconds from crying. "It was... a bad accident. Your mom and dad... are..."

"Are they okay?" Madison asked, beginning to pant. She clutched her favorite stuffed dog and appeared to be about half a step from hysteria.

Rodney took a deep breath, then blew it out. He pulled Madison's head to his chest and rubbed her back, gently. "No, Three-M. They're not okay." The tears finally came, he could no longer keep them from falling. "They... they died, Maddie." He had to say something else, something to put it in context, and Kaleb's lecture about children and belief systems came back, like an echo of the past. "They're in heaven, now, Madison."

"But... but... I don't _want_ them to be in... in heaven..." she said, one of her hands fisting in Rodney's t-shirt. "I want them here, they got to be _here_ , they... they..." Maddie dissolved into tears, sobbing against Rodney's chest. Rodney cried too and wished there was someone who could hold him the way he was holding Madison.

* * *

That day passed both slowly and far too swiftly. The first thing Rodney did was to call his secretary to let her know what had happened, though he wasn't really sure why he was doing it. 

"Colette?"

"Dr. McKay? Where are you? You've got--"

"Colette, listen," he said and his voice sounded as tired and strung-out as he felt. "My... my..."

There was silence for a moment. "Doc?"

"My sister. You know, Jeannie, my sister. My sister and her husband, there... there was this... accident... and..."

"Oh my God." He heard her take a shaky breath. "Are they okay?"

"No." No, they'd never be okay again, they were gone. Who was he going to tease? Whose shoulder could he lean on now? "It was... last night. I--I have..."

"Doc, where are you?" Colette asked, her voice very low and quiet.

"At Jeannie's. At her, I mean, it was hers..."

"I have the number. Doc, is your niece okay?"

"She's... she's sleeping. No."

Colette sighed. "At least she's not hurt. I've got the address, I'll come by in a couple of hours. Don't worry about anything here, Doc, okay?"

Worry? Why would he worry? "I don't..."

"It's okay, Doc, I've got it covered. Sit tight."

"Okay." He put the receiver down and went into the kitchen. He should eat something, and Madison should too. He hated to wake her, but she was a growing girl and needed nourishment. No sugar, though, Jeannie always told him, don't give her too much sugar first thing or you'll have an orangutan on crack to contend with.

He must have stood in front of the pantry for a long time, not seeing anything there. It was Friday, and Maddie should go to school, the Montessori school he'd helped Jeannie and Kaleb find, though he wasn't sure that was a good idea. He kept wondering what Jeannie would do, kept wishing she was  there, to take care of things, kept half-turning, his mouth open to ask her questions.

He'd actually managed to get some oatmeal almost ready when there was a knock on the door. He left the kitchen and opened the front door. 

"Hi, Doc," Colette said. She looked him up and down. "You really need to keep agitating for casual day at school," she said, in a voice that was too kind with a face that was too full of sympathy.

"Colette?" He shook his head in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping." She gently pushed past him. "Everything's covered at the university, don't worry about it. We'll deal with Monday when we need to. Have you eaten?"

"I had... I made oatmeal," he said, looking back to the kitchen.

"Where's Madison?"

"She's asleep. Finally asleep." Rodney looked down at his t-shirt, at the dried tears and mucus decorating it. "I don't want to... don't want to wake her, but she..."

"She needs to eat. I'll go check out the kitchen, why don't you go get her up and dressed?"

That was a very good idea, he knew he liked Colette for reasons other than the fact that she was tall, dark, beautiful and a lesbian. Rodney had grown tired of secretaries who saw him as a monster or worse, an object of desire. Colette didn't have either issue, and it was great.

Madison was curled up around her favorite stuffed dog on her bed, her breathing ragged. He carefully perched next to her and gently rubbed her shoulder. "Three-M? How about some breakfast?"

"Hmm?" She partially uncurled, knuckling her eyes. "Unca Mer?"

"Yeah, that's me. How about we get you dressed for the day? Then we can eat some breakfast."

"Oh." Her voice was very small and broken. Rodney gently pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her. She let go after a moment and sighed. "Okay."

There was Cream of Wheat for them, which confused Rodney -- he'd thought he'd made oatmeal. But it was warm and filling, and once they finished, they sat on the couch and watched Cartoon Channel together. Madison didn't want to leave him, even for a second, and he found he didn't want to leave her, either. Somewhere, deep inside him, a voice (which had a Scottish accent, and he wasn't sure why)  was saying Shock. PTSD. Withdrawal. Shutting down. But it wasn't loud, so he could ignore it pretty easily.

There were phone calls, but Colette, bless her, answered them so he didn't have to speak to anyone. He watched Colette go through Jeannie's computer and Kaleb's desk, looking for things, finding things, being efficient. He knew when he hired her she'd be efficient.

By the late afternoon -- at least he thought it was, the light was getting dimmer -- people started coming by, most of them with food. Colette met them, let them in only one or two at a time, thanked them and took their names and addresses. They had just finished eating a really delicious casserole, though Rodney couldn't remember what was in it, when there was another knock. It was the minister from the Unitarian Church the Miller family frequented. The woman was very quiet and soothing, playing with Madison and asking him about arrangements, funerals, viewings, all the stuff he didn't want to think about but knew he had to.

Colette had found Jeannie's and Kaleb's will, which was pretty simple. Madison inherited everything and Rodney was named as her guardian in the event of their deaths. Jeannie had changed a few months before, and he remembered he'd been horrified at the thought of being Madison's guardian. But Jeannie had laughed and told him it wasn't going to happen so don't worry.

Don't worry, she'd said. Nothing's going to happen, she'd said. And if it did, can you think of anyone better? she'd said. Certainly not Mommy Dearest, she'd said. I'd rather have you than her, she'd said. Hell, I'd rather have Freddie Krueger than her, she'd said.

It was getting late and Madison was getting sleepy. Colette sat down on the coffee table in front of them and said, "I've got to get going, Doc. I'll be back tomorrow, around noon, I think. There's plenty of stuff to eat, I made sure the fridge was stocked." She sighed, reached out and tucked some of Madison's hair behind her ear. "Maddie, would you like me to help you get a bath before I go?"

Madison just pushed herself deeper into Rodney's embrace and shook her head, frantically. Rodney suddenly realized he hadn't heard her voice since they ate breakfast. That wasn't good, he thought.

Colette nodded and smiled. "That's okay, honey-bunny. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? You two be good and don't let your uncle get away with anything, okay?"

After Colette left, the house was empty and too quiet. Rodney sighed and got to his feet, went around the house to make sure it was locked up, and ended up back in the living room. "You need a bath, Three-M," he said, as quietly as he could.

She nodded and let him fill the tub, wash her and even wash her hair, which Jeannie always said was a battle. That battle had moved on, gone so far away that nothing was worth fighting over. When they were done, Maddie got dressed in some jammies and Rodney in a pair of old sweat pants and a (different) t-shirt, they just stood there, in the hallway, Rodney wishing he knew what to do. Finally, he reached out his hand, she took it, and they went into Jeannie's and Kaleb's bedroom, to sleep surrounded by their ghosts.

* * *

Rodney woke up in the middle of the night, disoriented and on the verge of a panic attack. It took him long minutes to realize where he was and to have it all come crashing down. Next to him on the bed was Madison, sound asleep, curled around her favorite stuffed dog and her mother's pillow. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep any longer. The clock showed four-thirty in the morning -- he was surprised he'd even gotten that much sleep.

He carefully extricated himself from the bed, making sure not to wake Madison, then went through the darkened house to the kitchen. While a pot of coffee brewed, he hunted around for a pad and pen. As he did, he realized how much work Colette had put into helping him -- helping him and Madison -- while he'd been reeling in shock. He resolved to ensure she got a raise, as well as anything else he could wrangle for her.

As the night crawled towards dawn, he wrote on the legal-size pad of yellow paper he'd unearthed, putting each idea down as it occurred. He would need to have the will probated, he was pretty sure, and should make sure he had enough time at the university for bereavement leave since he knew it was going to take a while to get everything done. He would have to sell the house but not before moving everything of Madison's out -- he knew he couldn't live in Jeannie's house, there were too many memories. They would start their new life together in Rodney's house, which was plenty big enough, once he'd moved the boxes of stuff out of the spare room.

He would have to change all the contact information everywhere. He would have to take Madison to her pediatric appointments, and he made a note to find out what her inoculation schedule looked like. Then there was school, she was old enough to start kindergarten in the public school system come September, but he knew there was no way in hell she was going there. Where, though, he had no idea. His back-pay from the SGC had been dwindling as he used it for more important things. On a university chair's salary, though...

He stopped, stricken by a thought. He'd only just started at UT, he didn't even have tenure. He was going to have to find a way to get himself tenured, fast. From this point on, he was a single parent and could not afford to be fired because he was an ass. He'd work something out by the time the weekend was done, a strategy to use against those who might fight him.

He wrote more and more things to do, people to see, a cremation to arrange, a memorial to arrange... It wasn't right. He'd just lost _his baby sister_ , so soon after finding her again, going back to the way they had been, the give and take, the teasing, the love, and... and...

With a harsh sob, Rodney hunched over in his chair and began to cry. He tried to keep his sobs quiet, tried to get them to stop, but they wouldn't. He couldn't get them to stop. He was crying for himself, for Madison, for the both of them, and he didn't think he could ever stop. It wasn't fair. Not now, not ever, it wasn't fucking _fair_ to find someone only to lose them again, so soon.

Even as he thought the words, Jeannie's voice came into his head, as clearly as if she'd been sitting opposite him. She said, _life_ isn't fair, Mer. You just have to roll with the punches, is all. 

"But I can't do that," Rodney whispered. "I don't think I can do that, not alone. How am I going to do this? I'm not a parent, I don't even know how..."

Jeannie's laughing voice gave way to John's angry one, their last argument. Suck it up, McKay, he heard, and he rolled himself into a tighter ball. He hadn't really intended to leave Atlantis, not for good, but his stubborn pride had gotten in the way. Again. He'd thought John would come after him, thought John would apologize, let Rodney apologize -- thought they could get back to where they were. But John didn't. Nobody on Atlantis even cared enough to even send a thank-you to him after he and Jeannie figured out how to recharge ZedPMs. He was alone, not even the acquaintances he thought were friends hanging around. 

And now, his sister, the one person he knew for certain loved him, had been taken away from him, too.

Rodney managed to get himself under control after a while, got the horrible, wrenching sobs to stop. He looked down at the paper and decided he'd better get busy, it was a long list.

* * *

Colette was there before noon, and seemed very surprised (and pleased) to be hugged by Rodney when she came through the door. Rodney wasn't someone who was used to saying thank you or to displaying thanks, but she deserved it. Saturday went pretty much the way Friday had, only with less drama and with Rodney actually _there_. He let Madison watch TV pretty much the whole day, figuring it was a 'special' occasion, and because she could zone out and not have to think about the death of her parents. 

With the minister's help, he figured out a schedule for everything. Jeannie and Kaleb had been explicit in the disposition of their bodies -- they wanted to be cremated and the ashes interred in the Miller family plot, where Kaleb's father was buried, and where his mother would eventually go. Rodney tried three separate times to get a hold of Kaleb's sister, Shirley, then gave up. Kaleb's mother was so far gone with Alzheimer's that she barely remembered she had a son.

The worst part was, of course, Branwen "Mommy Dearest" McKay.

When Rodney had been in college, he'd been invited to view a movie that was supposed to be one of those awful participation movies like _Rocky Horror_. He'd almost said no, but at the last minute, went. The next day, he hunted down a bootleg VHS copy of the movie and showed it to Jeannie on her next visit. The movie was _Mommie Dearest_ with Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford. Jeannie had watched it all, stunned speechless.

"I never thought anybody could be worse," she'd finally said, as the credits rolled.

"Nice to know, isn't it?" Rodney had asked, then had given her the tape. "You need it more than I do, until you can get out of the house." By then, their father had escaped, the hard way, by dying.

From that point on, Jeannie and Rodney called their mother Mommy Dearest, at least to her back. Neither of them had been brave enough to do it to her face. When Rodney opened the door Sunday afternoon and saw her standing on the stoop, he knew his life was going from bad to worse.

She was wearing a suit, of course, a gray suit impeccably tailored under her full-length mink. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her mouth was a thin slash across her face. "Meredith." 

"Why, Mother. What a surprise. Come in." Rodney desperately wished he had alcohol to get through this, it was bound to be unpleasant.

She walked into Jeannie's house like she owned it, her stare neutral and assessing. "It would have been nice to have been notified of my only daughter's passing by someone other than a stranger," were her first words. 

Rodney took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "That was Colette, my secretary at the university, and she stayed here all day Friday to help while Madison and I were in shock."

She snorted. "Shock. Yes. Where is Madison?"

"She's in the living room, watching TV." Rodney caught himself before he added, it's a special occasion, really -- before he tried to justify himself to her. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.

"Well, that's no good. Why don't you pack a bag for her while I go say hello."

"Pack a bag?" Rodney narrowed his eyes. "Why would I want her to pack a bag?" He knew why, he just wanted her to say it.

"Because she's coming with me, of course." 

"No. She's not." Rodney widened his stance as if he were shooting, a lovely vision and maybe he should try to find a nine-mil for later.

Rodney's eyes and Jeannie's eyes were dark blue, just like their father's eyes. Their mother's eyes, however, were paler, more steel than sky. "Of course she is." Those steel eyes narrowed. "You are obviously unfit to be her guardian."

"What makes you say that?" Rodney asked, and he was quite pleased with how calm his voice was. 

"It's obvious, Meredith. You're barely able to care for yourself." She gave him a look, taking in the old sweat pants and the ragged shirt.

"Is that what you think, Branwen? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but Madison is staying with me, now and for the rest of her life, if she wants." He crossed his arms in front of his chest, glad he'd hung out with some of the anthropologists long enough to learn about body language. "That's how Jeannie and Kaleb wanted it."

"Nonsense. Jean was practically an unfit mother as it was. Obvious--"

"No, Mother. It's in the will, I'm the legal guardian, and that's how it's going to stay."

"You little idiot," she said, in that horribly demeaning way she'd always had. "Fine. You wish to do this the hard way, then we shall. I will contest it."

"You might want to wait until their bodies are interred, which will be Tuesday," Rodney all but snarled. She didn't even have the fucking decency to wait until their bodies were cold, damn her.

All she did was glare at him before turning and leaving. Rodney noticed she had a new car and a new driver and he was surprised to find he just didn't care any more. Luckily, Madison didn't even known her grandmother had visited.

* * *

The last of the SGC back pay went to pay for a lawyer to answer Mommy Dearest's contention of the will. The guy came highly recommended and assured Rodney that his mother didn't have a leg to stand on. Not even all her money would be enough to contest such an iron-clad will.

Before he knew it, it was Tuesday and time for the memorial service. Rodney had waffled back and forth about whether Madison should attend the service, but in the end, he took her with him. She'd developed a terror of him leaving her, which was understandable, and he didn't want to ratchet her stress levels any higher. They sat at the front, Madison on Rodney's lap. She was clutching his shirt so tightly it was beginning to rip, watching the minister and looking at the pictures of Jeannie and Kaleb.

Rodney's mother came in just before the service started, glared at Rodney and pointedly took a seat as far away as possible. The minister noticed -- she'd been alerted by Rodney before-hand -- and sent a very interesting look at Branwen McKay. Colette and her partner came in just after Branwen. Colette stopped dead, glared briefly and took the seat next to Rodney. Madison turned enough so she could hold Colette's hand, though she didn't let go of Rodney's shirt.

The service was lovely, at least that's what Rodney was told afterwards. He didn't really remember any of it beyond various people he was vaguely familiar with speaking. He was tired, so damn tired; he felt like he hadn't slept in years. There was something he recalled reading years ago, something about the 'exhaustion of death.' That fit very well with how he'd been feeling.

He'd had to hire a team to move all of Madison's stuff to his house, and Colette, bless her, took over the job; it would be finished by Wednesday. Rodney had decided to take other things from Jeannie's house -- pictures, of course, a lot of kitchen stuff Rodney didn't know how to use but figured he'd have to learn, the sleeper sofa because you never knew when such a thing would come in handy and he hadn't gotten around to furnishing his house yet, and nearly all the books. Colette's partner's mother was a real estate agent and offered to list the house, once it was ready, as well as hold an estate sale for everything Rodney wasn't keeping. 

The day before the service, he'd thought to clean out Jeannie's and Kaleb's closets for useable clothing to donate to charity. He'd started out fine, his mind occupied with choosing charities to donate to. He'd opened the doors, had begun to pull stuff off hangers and had stopped, dead. It was Jeannie's favorite shirt, the one she wore frequently when she just stayed home. Colette had found him on the floor, holding the shirt and crying, soundlessly. She'd given him a look, helped him rise and told him she'd take care of it.

Colette really was a treasure. He was definitely going to have to figure out a way to repay her.

After the memorial was the interment of the ashes. It was very low key, only immediate family and friends. It was still too cold to do much outside, though the day of the service was bright and blue and icy, sort of like Branwen McKay's eyes. There were a few chairs set up and Rodney took one, lifting Madison to his lap again. The minister read a few words from the bible and the urns were placed in the marble sepulcher. Mommie Dearest hadn't bothered to come.

The minister came back and crouched in front of Rodney and Madison. "You are always welcome in our church," she said, smiling sadly at Madison. "Please come see us, and call if there is ever anything I can do."

Rodney had nodded and she'd gently tugged on a little bit of Madison's hair that had escaped her hood before she rose and left.

After everyone had left, Rodney and Madison remained seated, staring at the sepulcher. Finally, Madison had broken the silence with a soft voice. "Unca Mer?"

"Yes?"

"Am I going to have to go live with gramma?"

Oh, no. She must have overheard something or worse, been approached by the old battleaxe. "No, Maddie. You're going to stay with me."

She twisted around so she could see his face. "Promise?"

Rodney nodded soberly. "Promise."

"I'm sorry I been a pest," she said and Rodney just stared at her.

"You haven't been a pest, Three-M, why would you think you were?"

She shrugged, and Rodney decided to find out if his mother had ever had a chance to talk to Madison. "Maddie, you're not a pest. You're a wonderful little girl. If anyone's a pest, it's me." He sighed, not having to fake it. "Maddie, I'm not a parent. I love you with all my heart, but I'm afraid I'll screw this up, screw us up." And why the hell was he admitting this to her? The kid was _five freaking years old_ and he was burdening her with his fears and worries?

Maddie looked at him solemnly, though, her eyes far too wise for her years. "It's okay," she said, and looked so much like her mother Rodney wanted to scream. "We'll help each other."

Her little nose was red from cold and even Rodney could feel the cold through his overcoat. His dress shirt, under the coat, was ripped from Maddie's tight hold on it. He would have to go back to work next Monday, and wasn't sure if Maddie would be able to be away from him by then. He looked into the solemn blue eyes of his niece, fought back tears again, and said, "Okay. We can do that." He kissed her forehead gently, helped her off his lap and stood. They went to his car, her hand in his the whole way home.

* * *

Rodney's voice trailed off as he finished the story. Rodney had his head on John's chest, who felt a damp patch that he was pretty sure wasn't from breath. 

"I'm sorry," John breathed.

"For what?"

"For not being here. I should have been here. I..."

"It's okay," Rodney said. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

end


End file.
